Moments
by illuminata79
Summary: Ten very small scenes from the life of Mick Carpenter. (Rated M solely for one four-letter word.)


The so-called Shuffle Challenge has not left my mind since I heard of it. When I found myself trying to make up a story for any song I was listening to for several days, I finally caved in and sat down, putting my iPod on Shuffle mode and wrote what popped into my mind during the first ten songs.

OK, yes, actually it was the first eleven - there was one tiny bit of film music that was under a minute and over too quickly, so please forgive me for "cheating". I just thought the story snippets ought to consist of a little more than just two or three words!

And, of course, it is Mick Carpenter I'm writing about - past, present, and future.

So here we go. It's certainly not highly sophisticated reading, but it was fun.

* * *

_1. Edvard Grieg, Peer Gynt Suite 2: Arabian Dance_

„Are you stuck in that fairy-tale world of yours again?"

The boy jumped, startled out of the pleasant world inside his head, where he had been riding among his fellow conquerors, crossing the desert plains to reach the splendidly coloured tents at the oasis they were approaching finally, after long thirsty, dusty hours in the saddle, where a rich meal and a beautiful princess would be waiting for him.

"Mick?" the voice insisted. "Come now, the Lindsays will be arriving in half an hour, and you promised to help set the table."

He knew it was no use protesting when his mother spoke in this severe tone. Carefully, he placed a bookmark between the pages and walked downstairs, pretending a king would be coming for dinner.

* * *

_2. Noel McLoughlin, The Garden Song_

There she was, in her element. Mick couldn't help smiling when he saw his grandmother eagerly hacking away at some weeds that had ventured to infest her potato bed. She was dressed in her shabby gardening clothes, a colourful kerchief tied over her hair, her hands the dark brown of the rich soil she'd been handling all day long.

He was happy on this sunny late-summer day, glad to be back home in Maine. From where he was perched among the branches of the old pear tree, he picked a nice ripe fruit and took a hearty bite while the juice ran down his chin and his grandmother grinned up at him when she finally detected from where he had been calling out to her earlier.

* * *

_3. Tavener, Song for Athene_

He slipped into a pew at the back of the dark Gothic church, hoping nobody had noticed he hadn't crossed himself when he entered.

He wasn't sure what exactly had moved him to enter the building as he strolled through the streets of some minor Spanish port city. He had never been much of a believer, but suddenly he had felt the urge to attend when the solemn singing of the congregation reached his ears as he walked by.

The austere beauty of the melody touched him in a way that was at a time beautiful and heart-wrenching. For the first time since his hasty departure from France, from the place where he had thought he and Nell would live happily ever after, he stopped to say a prayer for the girl he still loved so much, while the ardent voices of the locals sang their plaintive tune.

* * *

_4. Elton John, This Train Don't Stop Here Anymore_

The train was rattling east, the monotonous chugging almost like a mechanical heart.

He tried to remember when he'd last been on a train. It must have been when he'd still lived with his grandparents in Maine. Yes, it had been the silent, sad train ride back east after his mother's funeral, fifteen years - almost half a life - ago.

He wondered if he'd live to see another fifteen years.

Unless some miracle happened, he'd be going off to war after completing his training in the town he was heading for.

* * *

_5. Zbigniew Preisner, Leaving the Docks (The Secret Garden soundtrack)  
_

"Come! You're getting all wet!" Nell called out to him from where she was sheltering under a large overhanging tree.

"I'm coming: Just had to get this for you." Dripping wet, he handed her a little blue flower.

* * *

_6. Nolwenn Leroy, Karantez vro_

"I … I don't know if I can …"

"Please, Nell. Nobody can hear us except the seagulls, and I'm sure they won't mind."

She closed her eyes and swallowed once, twice, then she began to sing in a voice that was so different from the way she spoke, a throaty, full voice that sounded like it belonged to a woman ten or fifteen years older than the slim girl standing barefoot in the sand before him.

This was even more fascinating than the words she sang, this rough, guttural language that still had a strange melody to it. Breton. He'd never heard her use it before.

* * *

_7. Billy Joel, Shades of Grey_

"Oh, fuck, Jimmy, RUN!" I bellowed when I glimpsed the suspicious glint of metal among the bushes above the narrow strip of beach. No two seconds later, a machine-gun burst rent the air, missing us by inches.

While Jimmy dashed off to the makeshift shelter we'd built just this morning, I took out the sniper coldly.

Only when I had made sure there were no others hidden in the small clump of bushes, my heart began to race.

I looked at my boys, all four of them unscathed, and, once again, wondered why on earth we were putting our life on the line day after day, killing other guys, who might be asking themselves the same questions, before they could kill us.

* * *

_8. Daliah Lavi, Lass die Liebe auferstehn_

Evelyn stretched out her hand and helped me up.

Just a few weeks ago, I'd have hated her for it, for pointing out there were things I couldn't do by myself any more.

Patiently, she made me see how wrong I had been to feel like that. She had begun to tear down the walls I had erected around myself to hide away from the world, from all the ugliness and grief and false pity, but also from all the beauty.

In the end, love had conquered maybe not all but a lot.

* * *

_9. Johnny Cash, I Still Miss Someone  
_

I locked the door of what used to be our house for the last time and left without turning around.

I was sure I'd find some work, and maybe I'd even be lucky to earn enough to buy my boat rather soon if I didn't spend too much on rubbish.

I had a feeling that it was best not to get attached to anyone now, with the loss of my grandparents still so fresh and raw in my soul, but then I thought of Eliza and the happiness we had shared for a glorious while.

It probably wouldn't have worked out between us in the long run, what with our very different backgrounds, but I still missed her nevertheless.

* * *

_10. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Symphony #33 in B flat – Finale: Allegro assai_

There she was, my little girl, in her pink frilly Sunday dress, her chestnut curls and the skirt of her dress flying as she whirled round and round in the middle of the living room to the sound of one of the classical records she had surprisingly grown fond of, her little round cheeks flushed with joy.

Hard to believe it was her fourth birthday already. Hadn't it been only yesterday that I'd held the tiny creature in my arms for the first time, tickled her round little belly, admired her perfect little rosebud mouth, felt her incredibly small fingers clasp one of mine with amazing strength?

As the tune came to an end, she tumbled down on the floor, giggling dizzily, and asked, "Can I have a kiss now, Daddy?"


End file.
